


Hey, Neighbor!

by neverending_shenanigans



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Christmas Fluff, Darcy/Steve Holiday Fic/Art Exchange, Explicit Language, F/M, References To FRIENDS, Secret Santa, Steve Rogers is a little shit, There is a reference to The Blindside, because that seems to be my thing right now, but only very little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who has been a good little girl and got a Captain America as a new neighbor for Christmas early this year?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Neighbor!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pythia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pythia/gifts).



*

**Advent 1 st: - First Candle - **

_“Who has been a good little girl and got a Captain America as a new neighbor for Christmas early this year?”_

That’s what Darcy sent Jane on November 22nd, at the ungodly hour of 5 o’clock, accompanied by a blurry picture proof of one Steve Rogers in sweatpants, carrying three boxes to the apartment just below hers. All she got back was an eye-rolling-emoji in reply, but that didn’t take from her satisfaction.

One needed the little perks in one’s life, when one was back to college, okay? College was hard. Getting up early was hard. So shamelessly enjoying the fact that her crappy apartment had become a little bit safer was mandatory at crap o’clock.

Honestly, when she had directed Steve Rogers in the direction of her apartment building in Brooklyn, she hadn’t actually expected him to give it much thought. She didn’t even know him much. Being back to college meant less time hanging out with Jane, in her lab, and that meant that she pretty much wasn’t a part of Jane’s daily life anymore – so that excluded the Avengers. Even if Jane knew all of them by now, Darcy didn’t.

Not that she minded. Knowing your heroes could kill them. Metaphorically, she wasn’t that dangerous to know. But knowing that… oh, maybe, Batman ate his boggers? That would kill the appeal. So she preferred to daydream from afar.

Then again, Steve Rogers seemed pretty decent. For the third hero that she met up close. The first had been Thor, and the second had been one Bruce Banner. Thor was the whole reason that Jane went back to America, and though Darcy had considered staying abroad, in the end she had decided to take up one of her professors on the offer to join a doctoral program on political science.

So first, she had gone back to Culver, in West Virginia, and then he had referred her to a colleague of his in New York University. After the battle in Manhattan, the political science department of New York was very interested in the ‘politics of independent justice workers’ or something along those lines. It was close enough to Darcy’s doctoral thesis topic of interstellar politics and how that might impart earth’s global politics that the head of the political science department of NYU had personally taken Darcy under his wings.

Which meant that she basically had no social life anymore, whatsoever. She justified her visits to Jane as research on her topic, because she sometimes asked Thor a ton of questions while she was there, and waiting for Jane to finish something. And then once, one of the people in the lab had perked up when she had mentioned her old professor from Culver, and come over to greet her.

That was how she had met Dr. Banner, who had once worked at Culver. He asked her many questions about some of the professors, and it was adorable to see his whole face light up at the mention of some of them. Then he introduced her to the guy he had actually been working with, whom he now introduced as Steve Rogers. What they were working on – sciencing on – Darcy had no idea. But she knew that Steve – as he had insisted she call him – was a nice guy.

When she came around and he stopped by in the lab, he always took the time to come over and greet her. They always did small talk, on her thesis, or on living in Brooklyn. Sometimes Darcy almost forgot that he was superhero. He seemed so… sweet. And normal, actually.

So, when he had mentioned once that he wanted to find a quiet place that he could live in, somewhat undercover, when the tower was too much for him, but where he also would not live with a SHIELD co-worker next door, she had off handedly mentioned that the couple who had lived just below her had moved out two weeks ago, because the woman was pregnant.

The place was a bit shabby, and small, but decent compared to what else Brooklyn had to offer at the price – which was pretty good. Or else she wouldn’t be able to afford that one either.

Besides, she liked small. It meant the place was cozy. And in a big town, having something that meant cozy and cuddly and cute was damn important. Also, she wasn’t too far from the subway, and that saved her sleep time, when she had to go to the campus.

As she got on said subway now, she wondered what exactly had sold him on the place. He didn’t need the subway, did he? Did superheroes commute? The idea amused her. But then again, maybe it was that little bakery she had told him of once during their five-minutes-of-small-talk. That little Jewish place, with the daily-Shakespeare-quote on its window. They had the best cinnamon buns.

Maybe, she mused further, Captain America was really into cinnamon buns. Maybe they were his Achilles heel, his sole weakness, and the knowledge of terrific cinnamon buns had made him cave, and immediately sign the apartment without visiting first. Or he had visited when she wasn’t around. Probably that.

Though that meant she needed to have a talk with Kolya and Nadejda, the sweet Russian couple that lived in the apartment above her, and was probably only about five years older than she was. Because of reasons she would never understand, those two always knew everything going on in that house, even if no one ever actually saw them around. She always only met when they rang at her door, and asked her over. And about three weeks could pass between those invitations. And then they updated her on necessary information.

Once, Nadejda had even slipped a note under the door to update her on the fact that the couple below – the former owners of Steve Roger’s place- had become pregnant. She had believed from that moment on that Nadejda was a wizard and knew legimency. And look at that, now they had failed her.

She would demand they make up for it with a cup of hot chocolate and rum. Yep. Tonight, when she got home. She would need to get rum on her way home, though. Oh. And a welcome gift for the good Captain. Hey, maybe she could bake some cookies for him?

~

She still had no welcome gift bought or brought to Steve Rogers a week later, on the 29th. Somehow, it had never really worked out to stop by all week. She had passed him a couple of times in the hallway, when she went to the campus library early, or to a meeting with the professor, or actually sometimes even the odd lecture that she believed could be useful for her thesis.

Once she had even met him really early when he had just returned from his jog – sunrise jog, or something – round the block. A sweaty Captain America had been the mental image of the day, and she had been very determined that she would make it the same night, and stop by with a gift. That had been on Thursday.

Now it was Sunday again, and once more she had left the library of the campus at fuck o’clock. Eight, or nine, or something like that. Too late to do anything. Ugh. Her arms felt like jelly from carrying three bags of books and a fourth bag with her netbook in it, and her feet were dragging over the ground, while her face had slipped into the state of a perpetual frown of kill-me-now three hours ago and not changed from that for even a second. Even lifting up the corners of her lips felt too much like a drag. She could not be bothered. Life was hard, and she needed to display and broadcast that to the world.

As she reached the apartment-building, she already groaned at the thought of having to dig for her keys, as dragged herself up the stairs. Why was there no elevator in this building? And why did her door have to be opened manually? Maybe she could just… beg her door to open on its own accord.

When she reached the second floor, she tried to recall if she had any wine left, that she could drink up to reward herself for this day. Probably not, right? Jane stopped by on Friday. Jane always drank all her booze. Bad Jane. She would text her a demand for wine later.

When she reached the third floor, she was trying to count the maximum hours of sleep she could get tonight, if she did the barest minimum of work that still needed to be done before going to sleep. Her counting process was stopped by an open door. Not that the door did anything, but it was…. Open. And that was unusual.

Darcy blinked, and paused. She considered the situation. This was Steve’s apartment door. She double checked, but yes, He lived in 3A. 3B was that old guy who always played Sinatra at a ridiculous volume on Friday night at five in the morning.

Maybe Steve had a mission and had run out of his apartment in a hurry. Not that it sounded much like him to think that the second of closing the door would change anything, and not that Captain America would be so careless as to do that. But it was possible. Then she should close it.

But maybe someone had followed Steve home, and found out where he lived. A bad guy, maybe. Maybe there was a spy-ninja-assassin-creep in that place, just waiting for Steve to come home. But that would be a very stupid spy who announced his presence with an open door. Darcy knew better than that, just from what the TV taught her.

Maybe Steve had just …. Forgotten to close the door behind himself? Carrying heavy bags? Then he should have returned in the time she hesitated.

Why did she even hesitate. Of course she should go in there and check. It was what good, nosy neighbors did. But… but… she had no present. And she wanted her bed and… urgh, _fine_.

But as she moved closer to the door, she found that, _waitaminute_. Something smelled, er, burned? Not burned in the sense of ‘shit the house is on fire’ but more like ‘shit, I fell asleep on the couch and my pizza is charcoal now’. Which was totally made up example. Darcy frowned.

She stepped closer, and carefully peered inside. His apartment looked exactly like hers. One step in brought you to a really short hallway, and then there would be one big room that was living room and kitchen, and it would have one door in the kitchen leading to a ridiculously tiny excuse for a balcony. And there would be two doors at the other end of the room that would lead to one bedroom and one tiny bathroom.

She heard something in there. Somewhere. Living room area. And the smell really got worse. “Uhmm… Hey, Neighbor? Steve? Are you in there? Your door is kind of open. If you don’t say anything, I’ll come in and ….”

Before she could finish, someone stumbled round the corner. Darcy barely recognized that guy as Captain America.

It was Steve in a pink, frilly apron, with big white gloves and – was that flour? – in his hair and part of his face and very decidedly on his tight black shirt. He blinked at her, almost sheepishly.

“Oh, Darcy.” Was that a good or a bad oh? Was that an ‘oh, it’s just you’-oh or a ‘oh, yes, that is a good surprise’-oh? She needed to know. “Yes, sorry that I left the door open, it was a bit of an… instinctual reaction? I um, ahh… I burned something, and wanted to get the smell out quickly.”

Darcy did not wait for him to ask her to close the door, or come in; she just did it, before she walked over to him, so she could peer around the corner, into his kitchen. She actually took the moment to take in what she saw of the place. Which was bit of a letdown, because there wasn’t much to see. It was really… bare. There wasn’t even Christmas decoration! It almost broke her tiny heart a bit.

“What did you make? I’ll have you know that it’s a law in this building that I get a tenth of everything that is made. It’s the Darcy-tenth. I invented it.”

The kitchen was the only livened-up space of the place, and that only because it looked like a massacre happened there. The cookies on the counter were not quite as dark as she would have expected just by the smell of it, but not quite edible, she’d say. Didn’t keep her from unceremoniously putting down her bags, walking over to the tray and picking one up anyway. With one nail, she scratched some of the burned stuff off, before she bit of a part. She tilted her head from one side to the other and back, as she chewed for a moment, before she announced her verdict. “Fod fad.”

Steve blinked at her. “What?” He stood where she had left him. He looked a little lost in his own place. Or, you know, just not comfortable with her being here. He would have to deal. They were neighbors now. She was bound to pop by every once in a while.

She gulped down the rest of the cookie, before she replied. “I said, Not bad. Not quite good, but you’re getting there. It’s surprisingly soft inside. I like that in a cookie. Also in a man, but that’s a story for a different day. Try again, you have potential, young Jedi.”

Now he moved closer, and smiled at her praise. Then he scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, you made me want to bake some. When I saw you with those cookies on Thursday, it reminded me of when my mother used to bake before Christmas. It was about the only time she ever did, but those were really good.”

He looked at his own creation, with a bit of disappointment on his face. Which was, like, the expression of a kicked puppy. Did he ever try to give that look to the bad guys? Because she could not image that anyone would dare to keep up the works of a villain after having met that face. “I guess I failed though.”

She could not help the deep and dramatic sigh. “Oh boy,” she said. “Now you did it.”

He brushed off his hands on his apron. “Did what?”

She shrugged off her cardigan, and threw it past him, over the kitchen counter to the bags of her books. Then she pulled the elastic off her wrist, and tied her hair up in a ponytail. “Now you’ve woken the Dr. Jekyll in me. I can never let someone go and believe that they cannot bake. The world needs more baking. If everyone would make cookies instead of war, this world would be a happy place.” She waved at him, to come over. “Let’s do this, let’s make your mum’s cookies.”

He looked amused at her antics. “I thought it’s about waking Mr. Hyde inside of Dr. Jekyll.”

She glanced at him, before she moved the tray of burned cookies into the living room. “And that’s what you took from that speech? Besides, it’s totally intentional. My bad side is my normal side, the good Doctor is the one that I need to keep under wrap. If you’re nice, people want things from you. So don’t tell anyone.”

Steve laughed, as he, too, started to make place for their project in the kitchen. It was a nice laugh. Very soft. Very warm. “Your secret’s safe with me, Dr. Darcy Hyde.”

“Of course it is. You volunteered to be the good guy, you’d also volunteer to keep a villain’s secret. You’re probably made up of fluff and adorable kittens.” She paused at the thought. “And you obviously have a weird apron taste, I gotta say. Not that the little wings at the helmet weren’t a bit weird, too.”

“It was a moving in gift,” he grumbled, but his protest came off a little weak.

She patted his floury cheek, with a grin. “You keep telling yourself that. Now is there any other flour left or did you use all of that four your hair?”

 

 **

 

 

**Advent 2 nd: - Second Candle - **

She really should start to take her own advice to heart. Be the villain, don’t be a good guy. Being the good guy only meant trouble. And being stupid. Why was she being stupid here again?

Oh, yes, right. Because of Steve too-good-for-this-world-and-still-a-little-idiot Rogers. Who had zero Christmas decorations at his place, even though it was the sixth of December and Saint Nick’s day. Because his apartment still had more boxes than actual furniture, and because she felt that she owed it to him to change that, after he had brought up dinner twice for her this week.

Twice! And it was homemade, too. Somehow, the kitchen was the only part of his place that he seemed to have moved into already, and he had taken to cooking for two people, and packing things for her away, that he handed to her when she came home late from the library, and noisy dragged her feet on the stairs.

And it was only a little bit because she enjoyed the sight of his door opening and him coming out to greet her, with food, and very willing to carry her bags up to her apartment. But she totally paid him in wine, and her company! And Netflix! This Friday, Thor and Jane had been over, and she had introduced him to the beauty that is ‘The Labyrinth’. That should have evened the odds out considerably, because now he had David Bowie in his life and that made his life so much richer.

But a part of her would still picture that guy, with the ridiculous shoulder-to-waist ration and an ass that just won’t quit standing in his quiet, empty place, as children below sang happy Christmas songs, while he was all alone in a world he didn’t know; and he never even had a bed before, and he just wanted a mother that wasn’t on crack and to protect people and …. Yes, okay, she had watched ‘The Blindside’ earlier, and _maybe_ there had been wine involved, but…. Leave her be! It was half past eleven, she was allowed to have feels.

That’s how she ended up with Christmas lights wrapped around her shoulder like some weapon’s holster, a bag full of trinkets dangling from the crook of her elbow, and an old rope ladder (that she wasn’t even sure why she had it, but was pretty sure had been from her old tree house back home as a kid) on her small balcony.

She had tied the ladder unto the railing, and now she just needed to get over herself and climb down unto Steve’s excuse for a balcony. She would put up the lights and some other decorations (like that little Santa who was jollily holding up his middle finger that she had found in some random store), leave some chocolate and be off again. And wait for the fun in the morning, when Steve noticed that Saint Nick even came to big kids, who had laughed at her when she had told him to put his boots out on the balcony.

With a determined expression, she climbed on her chair, turned, and held unto the railing, before she pushed one foot over it and unto the wood. The ladder moved, and Darcy remembered that even as a kid she had hated climbing that thing. Better get it over with quickly.

She reached Steve’s floor unharmed, and set to work. She was glad to find that he did not have the balcony socket turned off, and she – quietly- applauded herself as she saw how pretty the tiny-ass balcony could look with all these lights.

The best thing was to find that he had, indeed, put out his red Captain America boots. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not. She could be damn scarry. But then again, he had fought Nazis. It was probably just his good manners kicking in. ‘I can’t deny a pretty dame anything. My mum raised me better than that,’ he had said once. She didn’t quite remember the context. She just remembered giggling when he had said dame, so probably there had been alcohol. She nevered giggled when sober.

With a tired yawn, Darcy made for the ladder again. She couldn’t wait to get in bed, and get some sleep, and get to see his expression tomorrow. She might even get up in time for his morning jog, so she could see it earlier.

Maybe it was that thought, or maybe just the red wine or the day kicking in. At any rate. When Darcy now climbed onto the ladder, it all seemed more unstable than before, and she let out a small cry as she felt that she was losing her footing. For a second, she managed to hold onto the ladder, out of pure surprise. Then her fingers slipped off. She tried to grab another of the wooden steps, and it felt like her arm was being torn out.

But she didn’t manage to hold onto it. She felt she was falling too slowly, that she should somehow be able to save herself. But then all she did was press her eyes close, and scream, before she hit the snow-covered ground of the sidewalk. A brain-splitting pain shot through her right leg, and her head hurt terribly, as did her hands, and she felt like she needed to vomit. And she distinctly heard Steve call her name, with a very horrified voice from above.

~

It was good for Darcy, that during her stunt at playing ‘Saint Nick’ she had not been sober enough to be very quiet, and had somehow managed to get Steve to come to the balcony. He got out just mere seconds after she fell, and had immediately called an ambulance. Before they even came, he had already held a horribly long rant at her being stupid, had found out that she probably had a concussion and that her leg appeared to be broken – No, don’t look Darcy – but everything else seemed to be miraculously fine.

He had stayed at her side, and held her hand, and berated her infinitely, but he had also promised that she would be fine, and that he would stay with her, and what had she been thinking anyway? But as soon as a doctor had checked her – and Steve had not been above using the Captain America Card to get someone to look at her quickly – he had actually even hugged her. It was a good hug, a careful-because-i-do-not-want-to-hurt-you-hug, but also a very i-am-glad-you-are-alive hug. It felt like they were friends. She liked that.

There had been a couple of more hugs after the first one. Steve had never let on that besides being Captain America, he also was a Mother Hen in capital letters, who fuzzed about sick people.

Possibly, because he had been sick and bedridden a lot as well, he told her, offhandedly, when she mused about it. Mused, not complained. She could never complain about having Steve pretty much constantly at her place, whenever he wasn’t doing super secret super hero stuff.

Though if she were to complain, then about the fact that that she now never got to see his expression at finding the chocolate in his boots, or the decoration, and especially that rude Santa figure. Whenever she brought it up, he just looked really exasperated at her.

Once, he mumbled something along the lines of “now I know what he must have felt like when I behaved stupid”, but that was when she was falling asleep on the couch as they watched The Blindside together (because she blamed that movie on her wanting to make his balcony pretty. Steve didn’t get where she made that connection.)

The worst part had been when he told her that he actually had seen her fall. He had been up, watching the snow flakes, because apparently Steve didn’t sleep well. Then the lights on the balcony had gone on, and there had been noise, so he had come over to check what was going on. One moment he had been confused and blinded by the Christmas lights, and then he had seen her, and the ladder, and the exact moment her grasp slipped. His expression had made her feel guilty as hell. He had looked so haunted.

Still. If she weighted the pros and cons – pro, having Steve around, not having to be at college for at least a week, having Jane and Thor come over to dote on and berate her, having Steve around and even carrying her up and down the stair once, being pitied by the kind old lady in 4B who made chocolate cake for her, having her first broken limb, being under pain meds for a while, Steve bringing her food and drinks and watching movies with her – cons, the impossibility of showering in dignity, that itch under the cast, that feeling when she thought she would die when she fell down the balcony, having Jane and Thor come over to dote on and berate her, Steve’s i-am-disappointed-in-you-face, the headache from the concussion whenever she tried to have fun… well. She was not going to say she would repeat it, but… she was not going to say that it might not still have been a worthy experience either.

Besides, Steve had offered to draw something pretty on her cast for her. That is, he had offered it with a rolling of his eyes and an implied “please shut up now”, when she complained that if she had gotten the cast in high school, at least she could have gotten everyone’s attention and signatures with it; on grown-ups people didn’t notice casts. She hated being a grown up.

Steve mumbled that someone who fell of a balcony playing Saint Nicks had no business calling herself a grown-up. Maybe he was unto something there.

 

 

***

 

 

**Advents 3 rd \- Third Candle - **

The third week before Christmas brought a ridiculous amount of snow. Like, seriously. Darcy felt the need to get this Christmas going hard, because of all that snow. She bullied Steve into grocery shopping with her, and making Christmas cookies for all of their neighbors, buying lots of eggnog and then decorating the stairways with loads and loads of mistletoes and all of that.

Nadejda thought it was horrible, but Kolya actually enjoyed it. Mr. Sinatra from 3B even asked her if he could have one of the mistletoes (and then attempted to hold it over her head, but she had been saved by Steve from that one). The kind old lady from 4B sighed wistfully, and Darcy was fairly sure that old lady had had some eggnog herself when Darcy brought her the cookies.

The only sad thing was that Steve was gone for most of the week, so she had to deal on her own for a little while. Which she did. Of course she did. But it also made her notice how weirdly small her apartment seemed all of a sudden. And how boring it was when there was no one around to be bullied into doing things for or with her.

She texted Jane, abundantly, but Jane had a life and was busy and would Darcy please shut up or did she have to shut her phone off? Other people had to work.

Then she texted Steve. He had given her his mobile phone number before he left, saying she should call before trying to do something stupid. She liked that he recognized that there was only ‘trying’ and no promises, and that he anticipated her doing something stupid before she even did. He had gotten to know her so much better in these past three weeks.

Not that she would be doing it intentional of course. Things just happened around her. Or to her. Or accidentally because of her. Because of her by proxy. Urgh, details. Point being – it was not her fault. The world should just leave it at that.

She wondered what Steve thought about it. He did check in at least once a day, and asked her how she was holding up. (Darcy made sure to always reply with a selfie of her being on the couch, in exactly the same position and with the same facial expression) Shouldn’t it be the other way round though? The injury had already happened in her case, she was treated and at home and getting better. He was the guy out on a mission, doing god knows what, and most likely being shot at at one point. She should be the one checking in on him.

And she did consider it. In the evenings, when she sat alone on her couch, and ate her pasta or pizza and watched a movie. She quite often caught herself thinking – ‘oh, this is a good one, Steve will like it’. It was almost unnerving. Unnerving enough to want to call him, and bug him, so that she might not think of his absence so much.

But Darcy was a big girl and not terribly good at self-deception. She knew that she’d only think more of him, and was just trying to think of good reasons to call. And really, there were no good reasons. He was doing his job, an important job. Saving the world, and all. She profited from that. It would be very stupid to distract him by being annoying. She had no right to annoy him. Neighbors only could annoy so much.

So on the 13th of December, when he still wasn’t home, she decided to be productive and finish the decoration of the stairways. Sure, the cast and the crutch were not making her job any easier, but slow and steady win the race. Or, you know, at least slow and steady kept her occupied.

Lucky, that he had hung the mistletoes already. There was no way in hell she was climbing up a ladder now. And there wasn’t much else left to do, only wind the vines of faux fir needles round the handrail, and add little baubles to it. After that she could… err… possibly put together a holiday-playlist, of some of the more unusual songs. Or cover versions of the usual songs. Some songs that she would not already hate after three days, at least.

Darcy had just finally reached the 1st floor, and was hanging the pink baubles into the plastic vine when the door was finally pushed open. A red-haired woman stood in the door. She wore a brown leather jacket, and matching boots, and a matching bad-ass expression on her face, as she zoomed in on Darcy.

“Merry Christmas?” Darcy offered stupidly. The red-head gave her a once over. There wasn’t even any hesitation in it, it was very throughout. Darcy wondered if she would be asked to show an ID any minute now. Her eyes lingered on the cast.

Darcy couldn’t blame her. Steve had outdone himself on Wednesday night. He had drawn some intricate pattern of Christmas ornaments and a Santa holding up a middle finger – as per request. It was almost too pretty to take it off again.

Then one corner of the mouth of said red-head lifted. It did not, actually, feel much like a smile. It was certainly… knowing. Any possibly approving. Just for what, Darcy was not sure. As a kid, she might have daydreamed about Hagrid showing up and belatedly approving her for Hogwarts, but surely that wasn’t what was going on here now. “I think it will be,” the red-head said. And then she turned on her heels, and left again.

For a moment, Darcy remained sitting on the stairs, pondering that odd meeting. What was the universe trying to tell her here? Then the door was pushed open again, and Steve came in. He was… panting. And in casual clothes. “Is that a sesame street shirt?” Darcy blurted out.

Steve ignored her, he just looked around. Then he ran to the hand railing and looked up. And then again at her. “Is she…” he paused, licked his lips. “Was there a woman here just a moment ago?”

Darcy blinked, but nodded. “Yep. Left again, just before you came in. Are you playing tag? Oh, can I join? I’m good at tag!” … well, okay, maybe not with the cast, but. Besides, what the hell was going on here? Hadn’t he said he was on mission? Oh, was he still on a mission? Was this some sort of super-villian that he was trying to capture? Because if so… well, the woman had not been panting the least. Someone was having the upper hand here, and it was not Steve. Just sayin’.

Or, you know, better not. Steve looked somewhat aggravated. His face was all red. “Did she say anything to you?”

Darcy patted his arm, patiently. He would clear this all up for her, and it would all make sense later. He just should catch his breath, in the meantime. “Uh, well, cryptically she did. She said she _thought_ Christmas will be merry. She didn’t give me any reference why she thought so, so don’t quote me on this.”

Steve looked at her. Really looked at her. In the eyes. Searching.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for any expression to appear on his face that would tell her what he found. Had she known that she would be looked at so closely today she would not have worn her self-knitted Grinch-sweater?

Then Steve sighed, and came to her side. He let himself fall unto the stairs next to her, and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he groaned. Darcy simply waited. She was just content that he appeared to be back. Maybe. At least he didn’t appear to want to run after that woman.

After a moment, or two, he did turn his head, open his eyes and look at her again. He smiled, almost sheepishly. “Hi.” His voice was more quiet, and calm now. Steve again, and not the good Captain, chasing after a cryptic villain.

Darcy smiled. “Hi.” It was her time (high time) to look him over. She could not make out any visible damage, aside from… well, his fashion. Which was very obviously not his own, or at least it didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of his wardrobe.

“Sorry about that, just… someone too interested in where I live now.” He sighed. It sounded very annoyed. Which was a very new sound. Sometimes he was exasperated at her, and he frequently pretended to be annoyed, but she did not thing she had ever heard him be really annoyed. “So, wanna go up? Tell me how your week has been?”

Darcy nodded, and pulled herself up on the railing, fetching the empty box of baubles with her free hand. “Sure thing. You didn’t miss much. I was pretty much… home-bound.” She gestured to her pretty cast. “But I finished the fourth season of friends, and can now fill you in on more about the wonderful adventures of Rachel and Monica.” He laughed.

“Sounds good. And I’ll cook, meanwhile. I’m starving.”

She rolled her eyes. “You always are,” then she looked around, for her crutch. Steve followed her movement, and spotted the thing before she did, and picked it up for her. Then, he hesitated, before handing it to her.

“We’ll, would you mind if I…?” He made a gesture at her. “It’s much quicker.”

Darcy blinked, and then she dramatically made a face. “Ugh. What a drag, a hot guy wanting to carry me up the stairs, even though I could totally do it myself in twice the time. Fine, if you absolutely must.”

A mere second later, Steve had her swept up in his arms, bridal style, and started to climb the stairs, as if she was as light as a feather. The super-serum really did wonders for her ego. She should always be carried around by super-human people. “Hot, huh?” He suddenly said. His voice was aiming for   
‘casually asking’, but his face was seriously headed towards ‘I’m really invested in what you’ll say now’. Also, his grip was kind of tense. A gal might notice.

She poked him in his chest. Stone-hard chest, one might add. How uncomfortable. It would be really uncomfortable to place her head there. She absolutely mustn’t think about that right now. Because it would be really not worth the while. Nu-uh. Right. What was the question again?

“Well, duh. I should be offended that you have to ask. I’ll have you know I have impeccable taste in men.”

He chuckled, which made his chest vibrate a little, which pleased her. She had to say, she was quite content being carried around like that. He was very welcome to do that frequently. But, alas, he sat her down in front of the door to his apartment, as he fiddled for the keys in the pocket of his pants. And then he suddenly didn’t anymore. He looked up.

Darcy did as well.

“Huh. How did that end up there?”

Someone had placed some mistletoe directly above his door. Darcy was sure that it had not been their doing, because they had carefully avoided that after the Mr. Sinatra incident. Darcy wondered. Maybe Nadejda had done it. Or the nice old lady from 4B had had a little too much eggnog again.

Lost in thought, it took her a moment to catch up with why Steve had stopped fiddling with his keys, and was looking at her.

Oh. She was standing under his mistletoe as well. “Do you…,” he started, questioningly. He didn’t think….?

“Hey, I didn’t do this!” She raised both of her hands, in a generally accepted proof of innocence. “I wouldn’t, I swear! I mean, I totally would, but I’d be upfront about it. I would place it inside.” Well, now that was a thought….

Steve shook his head. Ah, there was the exasperation again. Now, at least she found she could identify what the difference between his exasperation and annoyance was. Exasperation came with that undertone of fondness that made her heart skip double.

“That _really_ wasn’t what I meant.” He paused, and once more he _looked_ at her. With a _look_. What kind of look was that? But there definitely was a look. With a definite article. But the look went away. With a shake of his head, and a resuming of fiddling in his pocket for his keys.

“It’s a stupid tradition anyway,” he all but mumbled.

Oh.

“People shouldn’t need a reason. And it puts a lot of pressure on people,…”

_Oooh._

“…and gives too much room for unwanted attention for people who should know better. Besides, it’s kind of…”

His mumbling subsided when Darcy reached up to cup his cheeks with her hands and pull him down forcefully for a kiss (no way was she getting up on her toes. Not with the castle.). It was short, and warm, and she pointedly broke it before she could start to think on it.

Nothing good came from her overthinking kisses. London had proved her as much. Kisses needed to be spontaneous by nature.

“Besides, it is kind of juvenile, right?” She took his keys from his hands and unlocked the door. Steve didn’t do or say anything, he just looked at her. She groaned. “Steve, c’mon, I’m hungry. You promised food.”

“I did.” He said. Solemnly. And then he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. And cupped her chin. And Darcy could barely manage to at least feign protest, before he leaned down, and now he kissed her. Softly, and slowly, and sweetly. Too many adjectives. Too many thoughts.

But before she could settle on just one, he leaned back, and added “And yes, absolutely juvenile. I would never kiss someone because of a plant.” And he calmly pushed open the door, and walked into his apartment. He left her blinking dumbfounded and speechless.

“C’mon, Darce. I thought you were hungry. Or are you sated now?”

… did that little shit have the audacity to sound _smug_?!

 

 

 ****

  

**Advents 4 th – Fourth Candle - **

December 20th came and brought into Darcy’s life that red-haired woman once more. That Sunday, she simply showed up at Steve’s place for breakfast. (… and she didn’t even ask why Darcy was there as well. She smiled knowingly. Again.)

Steve did not seem happy, but he gave her coffee, and choice words for her stunt the week earlier. He shut up when she said, so casually that Darcy almost choked on her coffee, that she had wanted to see the reason why he still refused the women she offered to set him up with these past three weeks.

Whoa. He had refused dates? And – whoa, the Avengers tried to match make each during missions? It was hard to figure out which part of these news was the one to focus on.

Then the red-head introduced herself to Darcy formally, as Natasha Romanoff, and said that they’d see each other around, and was pretty much gone again. So she had only stopped by to leave one big elephant in the middle of the room. One pretty darn elephant, that Darcy could not put her finger on. Clearly this was somehow about how he could have turned down dates because of her.

They carefully avoided that elephant for most of the day, but Darcy felt that she maturely addressed it somewhat when she asked Steve how they wanted to spend Christmas. She was pretty proud of that sneaky plural.

She was pretty giddy when he used that plural as well, when he hesitantly asked if maybe they wanted to spent it simply… here? She was good with that. She did not need any relationship talk where the was none needed.

Though this visit did leave it’s ripples. As they cleared the breakfast table, Darcy couldn’t help thinking about what she had said. And then it clicked. When she finally found out what that elephant was, exactly, that had sat down it’s big grey ass on her soul. Err, so to speak.

She snapped twice. “Three weeks.” Steve paused, in the kitchen, and looked over to her. “She said three weeks.”

If the constipated look on his face was anything to go by, she’d say she just named that elephant. Five-hundred points to Darcy. That is, if she didn’t just sabotage whatever this was growing to be by putting it under too much scrutiny.

But then Steve put down the towel, and came over, with a shrug. “Well,… yes. I can’t deny it. I was pretty interested in you.”

She beamed at him. He scratched his neck.

“That might have been why I… accidentally on purpose burned my cookies. I had a pretty reasonable guess that you’d offer help.”

She opened her mouth, but didn’t actually have words for that. He could barely suppress a smile. Wait. Had she been played?! “On purpose? You burned cookies _on purpose_?” Sacrilegious.

“I can actually bake pretty well. I had lots of time at home to watch my mother do it. And there wasn’t much to do inside. That’s also how I learned to put up a mistletoe in a strategic place, by the by. “

Darcy shook her head, in disbelieve. Though, no. She believed every fucking word. She might not have at first, but … yeah. Steve Rogers was totally one cheating, little tactician who had played her from the very first start. Huh.

She decided to voice her thoughts by first boxing him on his arm, and then, patting his cheek. “Yes, good boy. You put some effort into this. But you have years to learn till you get to my level.” She knocked her cast slightly against the table.

He looked down. His expression went from smug to horrified. “You didn’t…!”

Darcy laughed. For a moment, she was tempted to let him believe that hers had been an elaborate and suicidal plan to get his attention. But he already knew so much of her weird, he might finally be scared off. “Of course I didn’t intentionally. But, still. I broke my leg for you. And my dignity. It counts. And I’d actually say it was very much worth it.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe that I’m going to say that, but… I think Karma is finally catching up with me. You want me to worry to death about you.”

Darcy tugged on his collar, and he obediently leaned down, so she could press a kiss to his lips. “Well, let’s not go that far yet. Death is a long way off, I hope. But Christmas seems reasonable.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> TADA! That’s it. I’m officially done :) I managed to somewhat include all the three prompts, though only somewhat. I hope it was enjoyable!
> 
> The three original prompts were:  
> “hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”
> 
> person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there????”)
> 
> “i live below you and i was minding my own business watching the snowfall out the window WHEN I SAW A BODY FALL ARE YOU REALLY PUTTING UP CHRISTMAS LIGHTS NOW”


End file.
